Chapter Eight: Bathing is Not a Spectator Sport

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

            The next morning, after a quick shower, and an even quicker breakfast, Hermione, summons in hand, Apparated directly into her flat. She hadn't been home since this had all started two weeks ago, and entering she was relieved to see that nothing had changed. For some reason Hermione had had this horrible image of everything being in disarray, or some of her precious possessions missing. How any of this would have happened was beyond her, but she was still relieved. Bending down, she picked up her Muggle mail. She sifted though it, and noting that it was a combination of bills, and junk, she tossed the papers carelessly on to the speckled grey, black, and white counter top. She walked down the grey-carpeted floor, and into her small bedroom. Everything in there was also how it should be. The bed was still neatly made, and the nightstand, along with the stout dresser were only covered with a thin layer of dust. Hermione sighed, and walked back out into the living room. Against the back wall was a well-designed study area; her computer sat on a metal desk, which was framed on all sides by large bookshelves. Behind the study area was a chesterfield that faced a small entertainment center. The flat wasn't very big, but it suited Hermione just fine.

            Moving back into her bedroom, Hermione approached the fireplace. She'd chosen this apartment specifically because it had a fireplace, and although it was in the bedroom, it was the best that she had been able to get. It had cost her to, but at moments like these the benefit far out weighed any extra cost that she ensued from it. She lit a fire in the grate, and grabbing the silver tin of floo from the wood mantle she stared at the green powder for a moment before she sighed, and through a pinch into the flames. "Severus Snape," She said, and waited from the man's head to appear. 'I hope he's not to upset,' she thought, realizing the risk she was taking in contacting him. Even with all the extra safety precautions that the two had taken, if anyone was with Severus when he received the call, and he was foolish enough to answer it… 'Well, let's hope that doesn't happen.'

            Hermione waited five minutes before Severus appeared in the fire before her, he did not look please. "You had best have a good reason for contacting me like this, Miss Granger." He only called her Miss Granger when he was most displeased.

"I received the summons, Severus," she said calmly, trying not to be affected by his tone.

"And?" He said, "You knew this was coming."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and thought for a moment, "Yes I suppose," She replied looking down at her hands. "It just that I didn't expect to be so effected by it. I mean it one thing to fool Lucius, but Voldemort? And what if I can't block the Vertiserum, and I spill the whole conspiracy? I mean, Christ, the man's a God damn snake, with beady little eyes, and a bald baby head…I don't know if I can do this."

Severus looked at her closely, "Hermione," his tone noticeably gentler, "I have the utmost confidence that you will do just fine."

"I suppose," Hermione said again.

"When did you receive the summons?"

"Last night, after Lucius…after Lucius and I finished talking." She didn't know why, but she didn't want to tell him about what had happen last night. 'Who are you kidding Granger, you know why.' 'Shut up,' she told herself, and focused again on the man in the fire. "You were right, of course, he made quite the production of it before he gave it to me. Draco's suppose to brief me later on what I have to know for tonight."

"Tonight?" Severus said sharply, "Your meeting Voldemort tonight?"

"Yes," Hermione said slowly as if this should have been obvious, "Why do you think that I called you instead of sending an owl?"

"Because you were nervous." Severus replied defensively.

"Well what's so special about tonight," she snapped, she already regretted contacting him.

"The meeting is at my estate."

"Oh," Hermione replied, and then smiled slightly the regret gone, "You won't be serving quiche will you?"

Severus looked confused for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes, "Certainly not with rosemary." Hermione laughed. "Well at least I'll be there if anything goes wrong, but Hermione," Severus' voice had an edge that made Hermione look at him sharply, all traces of mirth gone, "You must make sure that Lucius does not suspect that you know the castle. And if something does go wrong, I cannot blow my cover."

Hermione sighed and smiled sadly at him, "I know," she said.

"And," he continued after a moment, "If something happens to me, you cannot react, you cannot do anything."

"I know this too, Severus, we've been over this a thousand times. The minute the circle forms it's every member for them selves. I know."

Severus tilted his head slightly, "If you do something reckless I will be distinctly displeased."

Hermione laughed, although it didn't reach her eyes, "If I do something reckless the last thing I'm going to be concerned about is your displeasure."

"Hermione," Severus said briskly, "Just don't forget your promise, and everything should go fine." He paused for a moment, and she nodded, remembering all to well what he had made her agree too only a month before. "If I am about to die, and you are forced to witness it, you will do nothing. Do you understand, Hermione, you can do nothing. I will be able to watch you die, but I have to know that you'll be able to watch the same thing happen to me. Promise me that all you do is watch." She hadn't agreed right away, "I don't understand." She had said. "Voldemort will have you restrained so quick that you won't know what hit you." He'd replied matter-of-factually, "You don't stand a chance against all the Death Eaters. You're only hope is that he doesn't know about you too, and you can escape. Now promise me." In the end she relented because she knew he was right. "Now," the man in her fire said, the smirk evident in his voice, "I have to go fret over the hors d'oeuvres I'm going to serve later. Good luck, Hermione, you'll do fine." There was no smirk in the last sentence. "Oh, and an owl will be sent with a suggestion for our next meeting. It'll be in about four days."

"Good bye," she nodded as he disappeared. 

            Retrieving her wand from her pocket, Hermione put out the green flames, and strolled back into the kitchen. She grabbed the mail that she had looked through earlier, and sat down at her computer to pay her bills. When she was done, 45 minutes later, she got up, stretched, gave a longing look around her home, and left.

***

            Hermione sat on the window ledge dividing her attention between reading her book, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (it wasn't her favorite one by him, but she thought that it was somehow appropriate), and staring out at the beautiful estate. As it was, her room over looked a lake on the Malfoy property, and it reminded her, in an oddly comforting way, of Hogwarts. She had taken walks out there both by herself, and with Lucius. In fact she had explored most of the Malfoy property; Lucius occasionally playing tour guide. There was a Quidditch pitch on one side of the park where she imagined that Draco spent much of his time as a child. Closer to the house was a large stable and corral, and Hermione had found that she enjoyed spending the occasional afternoon riding through the large velvety green fields, and into the foreboding forest that marked the end of the property. And of course there were the token gardens, rose, flower (they had to be separated) hedge maze, statue, the magical verity, all perfectly manicured by the domestics, and taken for granted by the owners. Hermione's favorite was the magical one, it was filled with all sorts of beautiful specimens including Puffapods fat pink pods that explode into flowers when dropped (they'd been dropped all over the garden), Alihostsy large trees scattered around the grounds; their leaves caused hysteria, and Diltany a ground crawling fungus with small white flowers that bloomed at night, and gave off a enduring glow. 

            Hermione turned back to her book, and tried to focus, yet her mind betrayed her, and kept straying to thoughts of the young mister Malfoy. She was still waiting for Draco to come and brief her for tonight's festivities. She had, in fact, been waiting all afternoon for his arrival, and as she saw the sun moving lower in the horizon, she decided it was time for her to start getting ready. Hermione was aware that it wouldn't take her that long to complete the process, but she didn't want to rush, and she didn't want to make mistakes. One didn't walk into the snake's pit looking like one gave some half ass job at looking good.

            Hermione set her book down, and stripping, crossed the distance to her bathroom. Running a hot bath, with bubbles, she slipped in and let the water and lavender oils try to relax her.

            The tension in Hermione's lower back was just beginning to diminish when there was an intrusive knock at the bedroom door. "Yes?" she called, and heard the door open slightly.

"Hermione," Draco's muffled voice said slowly, as if unsure what to call her. Hermione cursed, and sat up slowly. Moving to stand up a very interesting idea occurred to her. She reclined in the tub.

"I'm taking a bath, Draco," she called, steadily, "If you want to wait in the study, I'll be out in a few moments."

"No," the voice was no longer muffled as he opened the bathroom door, and stepped in, "This is important, and I have other things to do today."

'Ah,' she thought as Draco leaned against the counter, 'it worked.' She smiled at him, "What can I do for you?"

"Tonight you will meet Lord Voldemort," Draco said, as if he was bored.

"Ten points to Slytherin, Draco," Hermione smirked, "I already knew that."

 Draco rolled his eyes, "When you meet him, you will not look him directly in the eyes, do not speak unless directly spoken to, when you address him it will be as Master, or My Lord, and when you are speaking to him, you will be on your knees. Understand?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage." Hermione replied.

"Wonderful," Draco still sounded bored, and so Hermione, in an effort to liven things up, reached her arm out to get her razor resting on the porcelain lip of the tub; at the same time she brought her slender white calf out of the water, and rested it on the ledge of the tub. Leaning forward, she began to slowly bring the razor up to her knee, her eyes watching Draco, as he watched her. Every time Hermione reached forward to her ankle, her breasts skimmed the bubbles, and Draco's gaze flicker between the exposed breast, and the hand that was climbing up her leg.

His expression did not change, "What exactly are you trying to achieve?" His tone was the same as it had been while he had been giving her the instruction.

"Achieve," Hermione stopped, and looked at him forging shock, "I'm trying to achieve silky smooth legs. At least that's what this razor promises." She extended the leg further out of the water towards Draco, "What do you think?"

Draco's eyes moved off the leg, and locked on to her face as he stepped forward. Running the back of his hand up her limb, he cupped it at the knee and brought his hand around to the back of it. His hand lingered there, the thumb rubbing the sensitive spot that caused her to shutter, and then he allowed his hand to travel the rest of the way down to her foot.

Stepping back, "It appears we've discovered a talent."

"Indeed," Hermione said, bringing her cool leg back into the warm water. She sat for a few moments, aware that Draco was watching her, before she made to stand up. "If you could hand me my robe," Hermione indicated a silk garment lined with terrycloth that was hanging on a hook by the other towels. As Draco turned to obtain the article, Hermione stood, removed the stopper allowing the water to drain, and turned so that her back was to him.

Draco moved quietly up behind her, placing the robe on her shoulders, and putting the hem over her arm so that it wouldn't hang in the water that still remained in the tub. As he leaned into her, Draco blow hot air over the base of her neck, causing her to shiver again. "You may be able to seduce my father this way my dear," he whispered silky in her ear, "But you will never ever get me. You will always be my father's whore," he straightened running his hand down her arm. "On your bed you will find a black robe for this evening–" his voice was back to that same bored drawl "–you do not get the anonymity of a mask." Hermione inclined her head to watch as Draco turned towards the door, "Oh, and try not to embarrass the Malfoy name, too much." With that, he pulled the door shut.

Hermione waited until she heard the bedroom door close, and she was sure he had left the room before she moved. "Well," she said aloud, "It would appear that we were drastically mistaken about his sexual interests." Shrugging, Hermione allowed the hem of her robe to fall, tying it around her waist as she stepped out of the tub. 'Well,' she figured, at least she knew where Draco stood. She had been looking for something concrete, and…well…now she had it. Hermione was fairly certain that Draco wouldn't mention this little incident to Lucius. How did she know? It wouldn't get Draco anywhere. Draco knew that Lucius was enjoying her company, and even if he told Lucius, Lucius was unlikely to care. As she'd been told before, Lucius Malfoy's sense of certain things was a bit different from everyone else's. And so, without further thought about it, Hermione went about her party preparation.

***

            Hermione pulled the silky black robe over her head, and watched in the mirror as it reshaped to fit her figure. Turning to the vanity table, Hermione caught sight of a folded piece of parchment that hadn't been there before. Tilting her head she looked at it curiously, and then snatched off the tabletop. It had no seal, and so Hermione opened it cautiously.

            'Miss Granger,

           

We're waiting for you down in the foyer. If you would be so kind as to grace us with your presence, I'd be very much obliged.

           

            Lucius

            'Ah,' thought Hermione, as she grabbed her cloak and crossed the room to the door, 'when he puts it like that...'

            Walking down the corridor to the main stairs, Hermione assessed her situation. She had prepared for this meeting for a very long time, and now that it was about to happen she was…excited. Sure, she was having the token anxieties, she was after all meeting Lord Voldemort, but…it was hard to explain, even to herself. 'It's like going to a practical exam,' her subconscious reasoned, 'you've prepared for it for so long, and now you finally have the opportunity to prove you know not just the theory, put the theory in practice.' Hermione liked that.

            Arriving at the end of the corridor, she stood at the top of the stairs looking down at Lucius and Draco dressed in their Death Eater attire. The black robes swirled around Draco's feet as he impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Neither one was wearing their mask. "Gentlemen," Hermione drawled –  a drawl that was worthy of a Malfoy – as she descended the stairs, "Don't we all just look darling in our matching ensembles."

Lucius chuckled, "This is not something to take lightly, my dear." He extended his arm to her as he meet her at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione quirked an eyebrow, causing Lucius to smile.

 Draco, rolling his eyes, pushed passed them, and headed out the door.

            Once the three had crossed out of the Apparation barriers surrounding the Manor, Lucius drew back the left sleeve of his robe, and without letting go of Hermione's arm, brought his right hand over to touch the mark. Hermione closed her eyes against the dizziness commonly associated with the dual Apparation. She'd never been completely comfortable with the idea of somebody else being responsible for her changing of locations. When Hermione felt her feet hit the ground, she opened her eyes gingerly to find that she was on the outskirts of Severus' estate. Remaining in character, however, Hermione looked around, forging confusion, and asked, "Where are we?"

"That's not important my dear." Lucius turned Hermione around to face a waiting carriage. "What is important, however, is that we proceed to our final destination with the utmost haste."

" 'The utmost haste'," Hermione mocked, "It's not 1805."

Lucius helped Hermione step into the black horseless Victorian coach. "My, aren't we clever this evening," he sounded amused, as he stepped in behind her, and sat down beside her. Draco followed, sitting opposite the couple. The door swung shut, and the carriage speed away.

Hermione smiled at Lucius, "I have my better days."

Draco chuckled at that, although it was of the cynical sort, "I suppose that's a matter of opinion."

"Most things are," Hermione replied, impassively.

"Not only clever, but philosophical too," Draco countered, "Father, quite the catch you have there."

"Jealous?" Lucius' silky voice reverberated off the padded walls of the coach. Hermione's eyes widened slightly, as Draco turned to look sharply at his father, the surprise evident on his face for a fleeting second.

"'Jealous' isn't the right adjective." Draco's voice was controlled and even.

Lucius laughed out right at that, "You were always so easy to bait, my son." Draco glared but made no move to reply.

Lucius reached over, and draped his arm around Hermione, who leaned slightly into him, crossing her legs to get closer, and causing the expensive fabric of her robe to fall away exposing the calves of her legs. "I expect you to behave appropriately this evening, my dear," Lucius whispered softly into Hermione's ear. "The Dark Lord is accustom to having his followers respond certain ways to him. There are appropriate traditions that have to be followed."

"So I was informed this afternoon," she answered, glance briefly at Draco, who, she couldn't help but notice, was staring at her legs. When he felt her gaze on him, he looked up, locking eyes with her. Hermione narrowed her own eyes trying to read what was in his steel grey ones.  They were intense and far colder then she ever remembered seeing them, and yet there was something else…'perhaps not always the whore?' Before she had to time to speculate further, however, the coach stopped, and Lucius stood up, pushing open the door, and stepped gracefully down. "Do not forget our warnings, my dear."

"Oh, don't worry," Hermione again accepted the offered hand, "I don't plan to forget anything." And what she said was indeed true, but there was a difference between remembering to use what someone told you, and just plain remembering. Hermione smiled to herself as she looked up at the looming castle before them, this was going to be fun.

Next Chapter: And then there was Voldemort…need I say more?

Author's Notes: Not much to say this time…the reason, or excuse (depending on your point of view) for the long delay, I was busy, hated the ending, tried to revise the ending, hated the revisions, so I went back to the original last part, and I still don't like it.

Thank you to every one who reviewed for chapter seven, it truly makes my day to come home and see new reviews. Also, thanks very much to my beta's Stephani and Alex. Also for anyone who's interested, I posted a naughter version of chapter seven at adultfanfiction.net. A special thank you goes out to my betas again who sat down with me, and helped me construct the little nugget. The story appears under the same name at aff.net.